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“Your balance. Not your touch with me.” Do I have to explain everything to him? I know my Aussie lingo confuses him at times, but Samuel has been away from society so long that he misses the joke.
“Just kiss me already,” I say. Wrapping my hand around the back of his neck, I guide his lips to mine.
The hammock rocks a little more when his entire weight is beside me. He lifts my knee, and since I’m only wearing a grass skirt, he arouses me with ease. “Have you been thinking about me?” he whispers.
“Yes.” Our kiss intensifies, our tongues entwine, and my body craves him inside of me. “I’m always ready for you.” My hormones have me wanting him all the time. Every hour if I could.
He climbs over me with the balance of a cat, hovers until the sway of the hammock is minimal.
“How are you going to cope when we’re back in society, and I wear underwear?” I smile before my hand guides him to my entrance. The look he gives me is a touch unsettling, as though he hasn’t contemplated us both returning any time soon. I don’t have time to dwell. His mouth covers my lips, his tongue seeks mine and he tastes me as though he has been starved for weeks. The butterfly sensation of fluttering in my stomach transforms to the wings of a hummingbird hovering. Lust streams through every part of me. Samuel loves me slowly, intimately, the hammock barely rocks. His thrusts are deep, and I feel all of him. He builds slowly, the hammock moving with him. A gentle sway while making love is my new favorite thing. A romantic motion and I’ll take it as there are no red roses or romantic private restaurant dinner dates. His hands glide smoothly over my oiled skin. His fingers caress one breast, my nipples harden and then he finds the other. Eyes closed, I savor his touch, moan his name as my orgasm builds. Samuel thrusts faster, and faster until the bliss overwhelms everything else, and I sigh his name, exhausted with pleasure. Exhausted as my labia remain swollen from last night. Not a complaint, I’m happy to have an orgasm more than once a day. My hormones demand it. Yet we remain discreet about our sex life not wanting to offend the Ularans which is why our special times are when no-one else is around. The last thing I want is to be sent away.
So, I’ll take every opportunity to love him, blind to what tomorrow brings. My limited time is like a bomb ticking away inside my heart.
2
EDEN
Sun blooms over the treetops—an invitation to a new day. The raw light streams into the hut and onto the empty hammock beside me. Absent of any breeze, the choking heat makes me crazy in my dreams, and last night was no exception.
Beyond our hut, life pulses with new vitality. The squawk of insects and screeching monkeys echo from the thriving jungle. I stumble out of my hammock to peer out the netted doorway and sense the jungle has crept closer to the village overnight.
Steam rises from the leaves of the low-lying vines, threatening to strangle everything in its path. My shoulders fall with every sharp breath of thick air. It’s early morning, and yet the layer of sweat covering my bare chest glistens in the filtered light.
Samuel said he’d be back by lunch. Many hours remain to amuse myself, and although the rain has eased, I’m not enticed to leave the hut until some of the mud hardens. When I have to relieve myself, the mosquitoes circling above my head sound like a swarm. The horror stories of all the mosquito-transmitted diseases spook me enough to be mindful.
I swat at one buzzing near my ear. In defeat, I fasten the protective net and retrieve the balm to cover my face and limbs. During the long, lonely hours while Samuel works, I question my sanity in being here, risking my and my baby’s life for him.
A banana and a basket of berries sit on the bench near a bowl of clean water—my breakfast. I eat the fruit as slow as possible to pass the time until more light filters in. Today, I have a date with my grandmother.
I retrieve her diary and the family photographs from my backpack. I take my favorite one of Gran and slide it inside the diary’s cover. Clambering into the hammock, I’m ready to be transported to 1956.
4th June 1956
Last night Brenda and I snuck out of the nurses’ quarters window when the matron’s bedroom light went out. Mary kept watch, ensuring the window remained open around midnight for when we returned.
We giggled as we ran across the wet path, holding each other’s hand so we didn’t slip over. My other hand was supporting my bra where I hid the sheath. Mary put me on to it, and I know she won’t tell. It felt weird against my skin, a jellyfish texture.
Brenda was more concerned about the rain flattening her curls. She wanted to impress Jonathon far more than I did Albert.
She told me she knew Jonathon was the one for her. It made me a little envious how she knew what her heart desired before getting to know a man properly. A quick wedding, a baby straight away, and to give up nursing? I couldn’t fathom not nursing. Women stop working when they marry or fall pregnant. Here, it’s enforced without a choice. I’ve worked hard, and I’ll not give it up because it’s expected all women want is to be married and have children.
The idea of helping others gives me much more happiness.
My mother had told me happiness is all that matters.
Every time I think about traveling and discovering new places, I get a tingling along my spine. It’s the rush I thrive on, and it’s why I want to work in the emergency department.
Like tonight. The rush of sneaking out to meet Albert was half the fun. He makes me laugh, but I wonder if it’s enough? Sure, he’s tall, dark, and handsome. He’s got eyes the color of whiskey and a heart so kind. How could I say no to him? Ever?
Not even in the back of a car.
It’s kind of fun.
Brenda wants to wait until they’re married.
It’s why she wants to rush into a wedding, especially after I told her how good it feels. The secrecy doesn’t bother me. I know he loves me. I guess I love him too. But I’m not sure if I want to marry him… yet. There’s so much more I want to do.
Travel.
